


However Motherhood Comes to You

by Gedry



Series: However Motherhood Comes to You [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Gotham Secret Santa 2019, Ignoring the last episode, M/M, Raising a Teenager, Slow Burn, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gedry/pseuds/Gedry
Summary: Written as part of the Gotham Secret Santa 2019.Almost ten years into his incarceration Oswald is yanked from Blackgate and introduced to his future.  Unfortunately, that future comes attached to Edward Nygma, a man who has betrayed him too often, loved him too little, and left him to rot.  As Oswald struggles to fill the role set out for him, he also struggles to come to terms with Ed and himself.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: However Motherhood Comes to You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592086
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esperata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/gifts).



However Motherhood Comes to You

Gotham Secret Santa 2019

Oswald swears there will be a day when he is never chained again. 

Today is not that day.

They drug him out of Blackgate about an hour ago. Blindfolded, handcuffed, and chained to the car they pushed him into. He’s lost track of the twists and turns of the road they’re on a while back. Bile rising in his stomach as they manage several more aggressive moves. 

He’s always been prone to car sickness. 

Suddenly, the sharp scent of citrus under his nose and his stomach is settling almost immediately. He’s annoyed by the stab of longing he experiences when he remembers that Ed used to do the same for him back when they were young and he was in love. Tears well for a moment behind his blindfolded eye. 

He’s not going to think about that bastard right now. 

He’s just...not. 

The car drops speed, finally coming to stop. Oswald jerks away from the hands that reach out to secure him while he’s being unhooked from the car. He hates being touched. Almost ten years in Blackgate having done nothing to improve his opinion on the matter. 

A voice says, “This way.” It’s garbled, distorted somehow, but the unwanted hands on his shoulders are gentle as they turn him in the direction they want him to go. He’s grateful for that much, and for the grace they show when he trips on his bad leg and whimpers at the lancing pain shooting up his thigh. They wait for him to be ready to continue. 

It's been almost a decade since he’s had such courtesy, he almost wishes he wasn’t being reminded of it now. 

When they stop, he’s strapped into a chair ankles to the legs, arms to the rests by wrist and elbow. He curls his fingers around the wooden knobs on the end of the armrests and waits for something. Electrocution, water toture, burns, he doesn’t know. He’s experienced it all by now. 

Oswald is tired. He doesn’t care what they do to him anymore, so long as when it’s over they end his life and finally allow him to rest. 

But then his hood is being removed and Jim Fucking Gordon is standing in front of him. Oswald snarls, jerking forward in his chair in a desperate attempt to rip the smug bastards throat out with his teeth. But he gets nowhere. 

Finally exhausted, Oswald sinks into his seat and looks around. He’s surprised to find he’s not the only prisoner in the room. A girl, maybe ten or eleven, is crouched on the far side of a cell in a straight jacket. She’s dirty, hair oily and clothing ragged. Rage rises within Oswald once more at the thought of what they’re doing with her.

“Moved on to little children now, Jim,” Oswald snaps without taking his eyes off her as she glares back at him. “Adults turn out to be too much for you?”

“I’ve missed you too, Oswald,” Jim sighs. “I guess you want to know why we brought you here.”

“I couldn’t care less why you brought me here,” Oswald corrects. “It doesn’t matter. What I want to know is why is Gotham’s number one darling keeping a little girl strapped up in a cage? I’ve seen and done a lot of sick things in my time, but this one is pretty close to the worst I’ve witnessed.”

There’s silence. She never even blinks in her study of him through the bars. 

“Hugo Strange,” Jim finally announces. It’s enough to draw Oswald’s attention away from the child to his face. “Four years after your incarceration we finally had enough data and stormed the last of his strongholds. We had been hearing rumors for years about assassins in the night, slipping in and out of spaces no adult could manage. We had everyone on the case, but we ran out of time. When we got there, she and Strange were the only ones left alive. From what we can tell he ordered the children to kill each other, and she was the last one standing. She went for him as soon as we hit the door, nearly ripped his head right off his body. Once she was done with him, she tried to cut her own throat. One of our operatives was able to stop her, but she nearly killed him.”

“Why should I care about any of this?” Oswald interrupts. Truly, it’s fascinating, but appearances must be maintained. 

“It was Ed,” Jim counters. “The operative she nearly killed? Ed Nygma.”

“That man means nothing to me,” Oswald argues. “It would do you well to remember that, Old Friend.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “We brought her back to Gotham. She’s non-verbal. No name, no form of communication, she will follow direct orders but that’s it and even then, only if she feels like it. As you can see, she doesn’t feel like it often. Finding any information about her was a priority so we resorted to genetic testing. What we found was ...disturbing.”

Oswald looks back at her, light green eyes watching him in the dim light. “She’s mine,” he comments, “How did he do it? DNA samples from my time in Arkham I’m assuming, but who provided the rest of her genetics?”

“She has two other genetic links,” Jim answers. “Neither of which you’re going to like. A co-paternal donor.”

“Ed,” Oswald huffs, bile rising in his throat again. “Of course,” he mutters to himself.

“Correct,” Jim confirms what Oswald suspected by the posture of her body. “And her maternal donor is Barbara Keen.”

At that, Oswald lets out a bark of hysterical laughter. “This is insane.”

“Agreed,” Jim nods. “But he made her intelligent, flexible, violent. She’s a machine of death.”

“She’s a kid,” Oswald snaps. “Why am I here? Send her to an institution, hell, make her go home with Barbara. I hear she’s doing a good enough job with your kid, just ask her to take another.” 

“We did,” Jim counters. “The kid put a hole straight through Barbara’s shoulder with an ink pen in the first three seconds. We don’t even know where she got it from.”

Oswald’s impressed. “So go get your lapdog then.”

“Ed’s still recovering,” Jim explains. “But we tried that too. She doesn’t get violent around him, but there’s no bond there. Ed’s clueless around her. He’s anxious and the more wound up he gets the more frantic she becomes. We had to separate them. He says he lacks the emotional skills to be a parent.”

“And you in some way thought I would have those skills?” Oswald laughs. 

“You loved your mother,” Someone comments from behind Oswald’s back. Damn him, Oswald would know that voice anywhere. 

“Nygma,” he snarls as Ed steps into the light. He looks ...good to be ten years older. But pale, his fingers tremble, his breathing is different. Jim said he was seriously injured. A part of Oswald longs to get up and trace his hands over that lean body searching for wounds so he can kiss them better. 

But then he remembers that Ed turned on him at the last minute, testified against him and sent him to prison while Ed went back to work at the GCPD like the good little puppy he used to say he hated being. 

“You make me sick,” Oswald mutters before turning away from them both to look back at the child in the cage. 

“Oswald,” Ed murmurs, sounding pained and sad and fuck him, Oswald doesn’t have to care about him anymore. “You loved your mother,” Ed repeats, “you took care of her, excellent care. And she adored you. You can have a nurturing relationship with someone. You take care of what you love. I remember that.”

There’s a beat of silence in the room, like all the air was sucked out of it. 

“He begged us to try this,” Jim comments. “You’re our last shot, Oswald. If she doesn’t respond to you we lose any leverage we have had up to now. The want us to put her down. Call her an abomination. Tell me you look at her and see a little kid, please. If you’re willing to try we have an offer for you.”

“Let’s hear it,” Oswald growls. 

“You take her to the estate,” Jim says as he tugs his hands into his pockets. “You live there with her. Teach her, take care of her, help give her a chance to have a LIFE, Oswald. In return, we allow you to serve out the rest of your time at the estate.”

“Just me and her?” Oswald asks. 

“No,” Jim shakes his head. “You’ll have a guard.”

“Just one,” Oswald says in disbelief. “To handle me and her?”

“He volunteered,” Jim answers, glancing pointedly at Ed who looks at the floor. 

Oswald turns to look at Ed with contempt, “You are smart enough to understand the length of my sentence, correct? After all, you helped to arrange it. Effectively, you’d be trapped for the rest of your life with me inside a gilded cage.”

“I’m aware of the time requirement,” Ed replies flatly. 

“What if I kill him?” Oswald asks Jim. 

“Then you go back to Blackgate,” Jim shrugs. “But then we have to let them kill her, Oswald. She’s too violent in a group setting, the institutions for children aren’t secure enough to keep her. You’re the last option we have. You and Ed kill each other and you’re killing her too.”

Oswald sneers at them. Catching out of the corner of his good eye that she mimics his lip curl. He cocks his head, so does she, he sticks his tongue out, so does she. He winks, she winks back. He smiles, she stares at him, assessing his face in what looks like confusion before attempting to follow his lead but instead looking more like a wild animal baring its teeth. 

It’s what makes up his mind. 

“Unhook her now,” he announces as he draws himself up. “Then get these chains off me and put me in the cell with her.”

“We’d prefer a slower introduction,” Ed comments as the other people in the room move to do Oswald’s bidding. “It would be safer.”

“Shut up, Nygma,” Oswald interrupts. “We do this my way or not at all. Unhook both of us, put me in there with her and lock us in. If she kills me it’s fine. I have nothing worth living for but revenge and frankly you’re not worth the effort.”

“Oswald,” Ed whispers, his hands reach out as though he’s thinking about touching him. 

“Lay a hand on me ever again,” Oswald snarls, “and I will find whatever wound you’re still nursing and make certain you bleed to death from it right here.”

Ed’s eyes widen, he swallows, the girl in the cell bares her teeth in a low growl directed at Ed. 

“Do as he says,” Jim orders as he goes to leave the room.. “Ed, you’re with me.” 

Neither set of eyes leave Ed’s form as he exits the room. They must be burning a hole in his back.

Oswald can only hope. 

******

She hisses at him the second the door to the cage slams shut behind them both. Crouches low, in a protective stance and snarls with her fists clenched. She stomps her feet, hissing and spitting like a wild animal for a solid five minutes. 

Oswald sits down on the floor, slowly, partially because he’s being cautious, particularly because he’s getting old and his knee is killing him. 

He can hear the camera’s whirring as they move into a position to catch all the action. Glares at them through the bars, hating the exposure of both of them in this horrible place. She tracks his eyes and mirrors his face while he looks around.  
“Can I inquire how to address you?” He asks when she starts to settle. She looks at him blankly. 

He presses a hand to his chest and announces, “Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.” Then he points at her. She blinks, presses her hand to her own chest and growls out, “Five.”

Oswald feels the swell of emotion bringing tears to his eyes as he shakes his head. “That won’t do, I’m afraid. Numbers are not for naming. A name means something. It tells a story about the bearer, gives you something to strive for. You’re a Cobblepot, like me. So we have the last name covered. And we are certainly NOT going to call you Barbara. We don’t need three of them.” He sighs and shakes his head. 

“Have these morons really just called you by a number designation the whole time they’ve had you?” He can’t even believe Jim would do that. 

She shakes her head, stands on her tip toes and holds her arms above her head. “Man,” she comments. “Green.”

It takes a moment for him to realize who she means. “A tall man in green? Do you mean Edward?”

“Hurt,” She murmurs as she drops back down in her crouch and presses on her side “You hate.”

“YES,” Oswald announces loudly, just so the cameras pick it up. “I HATE HIM. What about him?”

“Name,” she responds. Her voice like gravel. Clearly unused to this much vocal effort. She presses against her chest in a mimic of his movement from before. “I-s-a-b-e-l-l-a.”

“Isabella,” Oswald repeats disbelieving for a moment what kind of hell his life is becoming. “He named you Isabella.” When she nods he rolls his eyes and lets out a myrthless laugh, “Of fucking course he did.” 

He hates that man so much.

“Well,” he sighs, “It’s kind of a mouthful. Can you pronounce it? I noticed you spelled it out very well.”

She shakes her head. 

He’s a little relieved. “Then a nickname is in order. What are your thoughts on Izzie for short?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Iz-zie,” she repeats with what Oswald is starting to think is her version of a smile. But it’s hard to tell, so barely there. 

“My mother called me Ozzie,” he tells her. “When I was young. I didn’t appreciate her for it then but now, I’d given anything to have her call me that again.”

“Mother,” she cocks her head to the side like it might be a question. 

“My mother,” he replies shrugging. “The one that raised me, loved me, took care of me. Has anyone ever done that for you?”

She shakes her head, reaching up to tug on her hair in distress. 

“It’s alright,” Oswald rushes to assure her. “If you like, that can be my job.”

She looks at him for a very long time in silence. Oswald stares back at her evenly. It’s her choice. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hopeful. He’s been aching for years to have someone to pour his affection and dedication into. 

He’d be grateful for the chance to do something good.

She seems to come to some kind of decision, rising to her feet and coming slowly toward him across the cell. She sits down next to him against the bars staring at the floor near their feet. Oswald slowly brings his arm around her shoulders and she leans into his embrace. Both of them so cautious with each other. 

She yawns what could be minutes or hours later. He finds himself unable to avoid doing the same. She blinks sleepily up at him as he holds her close. “Get some rest, Izzie,” Oswald murmurs. “I’ll be right here. You’re safe, you have my word.”

He’s a little shocked when she snuggles tighter against him. “M-o-t-h-e-r,” she whispers back as she clings to him. “Momma.” 

Oswald leans his head against the bars and hums a melody he has previously only shared with one other person, what feels like a lifetime ago, in a small apartment, when he felt so broken and raw every breath he took hurt. As he hums, he hopes there is some truth to it, maybe his mother is watching over him, watching over them both. 

If she is, for the first time in a very long time, Oswald is sure she’s proud.

******

“I’m worried about you, Ed,” Jim comments as they watch Oswald help the little girl get food from the buffet they have set up for the security team stationed at their location. It’s been seven days. So far, Oswald has convinced Izzie to come out of the cage, shower, he even managed to comb the tangles out of her hair. She eats when he eats, sleeps when he sleeps so long as she can touch him or seeing him when she opens her eyes. She occasionally speaks to him, which is more that she has done for anyone else. 

More importantly, with the exception of lunging at Ed twice, both during altercations between Ed and Oswald, she hasn’t attempted to harm anyone and has stopped tearing at her own skin. Ed’s been quite impressed with their progress, even though there is a significant part of him that...hurts. Hurts because OSwald smiles at her, laughs with her, is bonding with her. Their...daughter. 

THEIR daughter. Their daughter who won’t even acknowledge Ed’s presence in the room until Oswald does. Their daughter who he doesn’t know how to connect with. Their daughter who spit at him yesterday. 

And Oswald, who continues to look at Ed as though he has the plague. Ed wants badly to be a part of this little family he is watching form. But that doesn’t seem to be possible. 

Perhaps, there really is nowhere in the world where he belongs. 

“I seriously doubt that,” Ed finally replies to Jim without turning his head. 

“I mean it,” Jim sighs. “How are you going to cope with the level of hate both those people are aiming at you? How are you going to deal with being constantly surrounded by people who don’t want you around and don’t understand everything you’ve done for them?” 

Ed finally turns to look Jim in the eye, “How is what you’re describing different than the entire rest of my life, Jim?” 

Ed’s mood is somewhat lifted by the stunned look on Jim Gordon’s face. “Excuse me,” Ed huffs as he pushes by the other man, purposely bumping into him even though it makes his chest hurt. “I’m late for dialysis. If I don’t start in the next ten minutes one of you will have to wait until I’m done to put me back in my cell before you leave for the night.”

Ed strolls away with his head held high. He may be friendless. He may have damaged the relationship with the love of his life beyond any hope of repair. He may have a child who hates the sight of him. He may have lost his freedom. But Ed is familiar with loss. It’s like the patchwork quilt he still has in the tiny cell they call his room. When he’s done with his treatment he will wait for them to lock him up and leave. Then he will wrap himself in that quilt and weep. But by then there will be no one around to care. 

It’s hours later, after his treatment, when he sees them for the last bit of his evening. Isabella, Izzie now, thanks to Oswald, sitting pressed against Oswald side on the small couch they have placed in the corner of their holding cell listening intently as Oswald reads to her from one of Edward’s favorite books. He hesitates in the doorway, closing his eyes and imagining for just a moment that the gentle, affectionate timber of Oswald’s voice is just for him. Or that maybe he would be allowed to cuddle up with them and be a part of their moment together. 

That he could belong. 

Her eyes look away from the book and catch his gaze for just a moment. She cocks her head and regards him as though he is a puzzle she can’t quite figure out. It’s a little bit like she sees all the way to his soul. It’s uncomfortable for him, her scrutiny. 

Then Oswald glances up and sees him. For a moment Ed imagines there’s no history between them, no hatred, they are just two men looking at each other who might be friends, may one day be lovers. 

But Oswald sneers, Izzie curls her lip at him in response to Oswald’s hostility. Ed knows it’s well deserved. 

No matter how pure his reasons were for doing it, Ed knows Oswald believes Ed abandoned him. 

Some hurts, too often repeated, cannot be healed. 

*****  
They move into the Oswald’s old family estate two months after Oswald first meets his daughter. 

He can tell she’s excited by the tiny quiver in her leg on the long car ride there. It’s as familiar to him as breathing even though she’s never done it before around him. 

Ed used to do the same when they would take rides out to the city for press conferences or a gala. The tiny, almost imperceptible, release of energy that used to make Oswald struggle to hide his smile at how cute he thought it was. 

Now, he’s filled with dread about the future. 

Living with Edward Nygma as his only consistent form of contact with another adult most of the time seems overwhelming and at the same time, barren. Oswald knows he has to control his own hostility toward the man or Izzie will suffer. She mirrors every mood he expresses and with Ed as his only target Oswald finds himself with an opportunity that ten years ago he would have jumped to take advantage of. 

Given the isolation, he could see how long it actually took to drive Ed completely insane. 

But now, that path seems hollow. Ed is...broken. There's an unidentified damage to his physical body for certain. Oswald has always been an observant man. Ed holds his body differently than he used to. He favors his left side and chooses to stand more than he opts to sit. There’s a tremor in his right hand. As Oswald ponders the extent of the other man’s injuries, it occurs to him that he could just ask Izzie what she did to him. 

But that seems cruel. Oswald isn’t sure how much of that day she remembers. If she has been spared the memory of some of the terrible things she was certainly forced to do, then he doesn’t want to remind her.

Besides, Ed doesn’t matter. Not really. Not any more. 

“Momma,” Izzie murmurs, drawing Oswald away from his thoughts. 

“Yes,” Oswald turns to meet her eyes, so very much like his own. 

“The tall man will be with us, yes?” She asks, again pressing her hand against her side. 

“Yes,” Oswald nods. “Ed. He will be with us.”

She nods, turning to look out the window. 

“This is the third time you’ve asked about him staying with us,” Oswald comments as he looks out at the passing trees. “Is there a reason you’re concerned about him?”

“No,” she shakes her head. Her speech has improved almost daily. Oswald waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts and work them out of her mouth. “He is...good. Saved me. Brought you. It is good he stays.”

“If you want him to stay,” Oswald asks, confused. “If you like him, why do you growl at him? Why spit on him?”

She shrugs. “You growl at him so I do. He needs to know you are mine now, Momma.”

Oswald laughs at that. “Ed doesn’t want me sweetheart. It took me a long time to understand that, but I finally got the message, believe me.”

She looks at him for a long time before she shakes her head. “Momma is wrong.”

Oswald spends the rest of the ride home trying not to think about what she might mean by that.

Ed is nowhere to be seen when they reach the estate. 

This has happened frequently since Oswald was brought to the facility. He goes missing for hours, like clockwork, and reappears as if nothing has happened. It’s beginning to bother Oswald. Ed is hiding something from him and Oswald has had enough of that from him to last a lifetime. 

Jim’s been off too. He watches Ed and then looks at Oswald with these pleading puppy dog eyes that make Oswald want to scream. It’s just another layer of stress to this already surreal situation. Oswald puts it out of his mind.

He’s here to take care of his daughter. He can do that without their input or interference. He can be a good parent. And that will be enough for him. 

It has to be. 

It only takes him three days to check every room in the estate he has access to. There’s no piano to be found. It just makes him more concerned. 

Ed always did love to play. Oswald had hoped that maybe he would be willing to show Izzie. 

He lets it go. 

******

Oswald had put on a significant amount of weight while he was incarcerated. Ed thinks it suits him. Makes him seem more grounded, stronger. 

Oswald clearly doesn’t share Ed’s opinion as he turns the currently unused garage into a gym almost as quickly as they all move in. 

He even asked Ed if there was anything he would like to have included. Ed had asked for a treadmill. Oswald commented about him taking up running like he had always run away from everything else. 

It had hurt, more than Oswald understood even, Ed isn’t able to run at all right now. His injuries and recovery taking too much out of his body. 

Oswald’s limping profusely back across the driveway in his gym clothes. Ed files that bit of information away as something to look into later. Oswald will need additional support for his bad leg chasing after their daughter. But he’s currently soaked with sweat and looking pleased with himself, he smiles at Ed when he sees him watching through the kitchen window. Ed smiles back, lifts his hand to wave even, before they both seem to suddenly remember they are no longer anything to each other. 

He watches the joy slide off Oswald’s face as he gets closer and slams his coffee cup down on the counter hard enough to crack it before he turns and storms away before Oswald can see the tears in his eyes. 

In retrospect, Ed should have known it was coming. 

Oswald can only stand not knowing for so long before he just has to pick at every wound. So when Ed unlocks the door to where his dialysis machine is set up for him he’s almost relieved to see Oswald sitting in the chair Ed usually settles in to begin his treatment. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Oswald asks as he twirls one of the many tubes that aid in the cleaning of toxins from Ed’s body. 

“Pardon?” Ed asks. “I fail to see what business it is of yours.”

Oswald rolls his eyes and tosses the tube out of his way before leaning forward and pressing his elbows to his knees as he growls, “You are responsible for the incarceration of me and my daughter at this facility. If you are unwell your capacity to be our jailer is compromised. I want assurances that Izzie will be kept safe and that you aren’t simply going to fall down dead one morning because of whatever the hell is going on with you and then Jim FUCKING Gordon will blame me for killing you, lock me up and kill my child!!”

“Our child,” Ed corrects automatically. 

Oswald’s mouth drops open comically as he sputters, “OUR CHILD?! You barely interact with her. You leave the room damn near every time she comes in it. How dare you claim her.”

“I named her!” Ed snaps. “I leave the room because YOU’RE always with her and you HATE ME.”

“You’re right, I DO!” Oswald bellows back. “You just had to name her Isabella too, didn’t you? Just had to dig that knife in just one more time to punish me. Like Blackgate and then having to live here with you wasn’t enough!”

Oswald’s opinion on her name hits Ed like a slap to his face. “That’s not why I named her that,” he rushes to explain. “Oswald, you have to believe me, I didn’t mean for you to think I was trying to hurt you with her name. I never even thought about it that way.”

“Then what, pray tell, Old Friend,” Oswald snears, “Could you possibly have been thinking?” 

“Isabella was the decision that ruined my life,” Ed answers as he clenches his fingers as hard as he can. “I have never stopped wondering what my life would be if I had just gotten wine and come home to you. I just wanted it to be perfect, the wine selection. It’s so stupid now, but I was obsessed with it. So obsessed with it that I was terrified of making a decision and then ...there she was and I didn’t have to think about it anymore. Isabella kept me from having you then. I hoped she would bring us back together now. Foolish, I know. To think you could understand and forgive me all of my trespasses. But I had hoped that you would find some irony in the opportunity to give someone with that name a life when you had taken one away from the first one. And ...never mind. That part doesn’t matter.”

Ed shakes his head and turns away. He’s so tired. 

“What doesn’t matter?” Oswald asks. Cautious but curious as well. He’s not angry with Ed about this like he was when the door opened. It makes Ed brave enough to tell him the truth. 

“In my head,” Ed admits with a flush of his cheeks. “I call you Ozzie sometimes. I remember you telling me about your mother and that nickname. I wanted to find a name for her that sounded like yours. Izzie and Ozzie. It ...touched something in me.”

There’s silence for a long time before Oswald finally admits, “I guess it could have been worse. You could have named her Lee.” 

“Oh God,” Ed snorts. “No. Just...no. Oswald, I assure you. I’m not going to just fall over and die one morning. At least, I have no plans to do so. I’m weak right now, my injuries are severe and some of them, like what led to my need for this machine, will never heal entirely. But I am capable of keeping you both safe. That’s what I have been doing, that’s what I mean to continue to do for as long as you allow me.”

Oswald huffs out a breath as he looks around the room. “I’m not going to ask anything more from you then right now. But Ed, I want answers soon.”

“Understood,” Ed nods. 

“And I want to know why you did what you did to me,” Oswald adds. 

Ed nods.

“And then I want you to explain why the security system locks you into your room every night like me and Izzie,” Oswald says as he reaches the door. “I’m done with your lying. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Tomorrow,” Ed assures him as Oswald walks away. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” 

Oswald leaves the door open behind him as he leaves. 

******  
“They were pushing for the death penalty,” Ed begins the next morning once he and Oswald settle in at the kitchen table while Izzie is with her speech tutor. 

Oswald’s mouth drops open his hands claw against the table for a moment before he gathers himself to ask, “Pardon?”

“The district attorney wanted you to be put to death for your crimes,” Ed tries to ignore how his own voice shakes. “I cut them a deal.”

“For what?” Oswald snaps. “What could you possibly have offered them?”

“My mind,” Ed sighs. “They were struggling with a number of facets related to the actions of Strange. His case files were written in code, chunks of time were omitted. Lucius got as far as he could go and came to me while they were preparing to send me to Arkham. He offered me a chance. Testify against you on the minor charges, embezzlement, pandering, and frankly anything else they were able to actually prove on their own and I was allowed one day to erase any evidence they might find of any major offenses.”

“They needed your help that badly,” Oswald questions, suspicious.

“Remember it was Lucius who came to me during the siege seeking to understand who blew up their safehouse. He’s used me as a resource before which led them to Strange. He knew I would help them.” Ed admits. 

“Because you didn’t want to go to Arkham,” Oswald accuses, sitting back from the table with a roll of his eyes. 

“Because I’m in love with you, and the mere idea of you dying was enough to make me almost completely unhinged,” Ed counters cooly.

Oswald barks a disbelieving laugh into the air between them. “I warned you not to lie to me.”

“Believe what you want,” Ed sighs. “I’ll never bring it up again after today. But know that I love you deeply and not as a brother. You’re the constant of my life. I would have done anything to save you, and then we found Izzie and I knew, Oswald. I knew the moment that door opened and I saw her eyes that she was yours. So when she killed Strange and raised that knife to her own throat I lunged at her. We fought but I was eventually able to subdue her. She did some serious damage to me during the fight. I don’t care, it didn’t matter. If she lived, then you had family again. Something I, otherwise, would have been helpless to give you. She mattered and her need led to your release from Blackgate, which was so much more than I had ever hoped for.”

“And then they pulled her genetics,” Oswald presses. 

“Yes,” Ed nods, “That happened while I was in the hospital. As did the introduction to Barbara. We were not re-introduced until after my release and all other avenues had been rejected. When I failed to connect with her they asked me for recommendations.”

“You failed to connect with her on purpose,” Oswald comments. “Didn’t you?”

Ed flushes, looks away out the window. “If I had succeeded, you would have never been given the chance.”

They sit in silence for a long time. Their coffee goes cold. 

“My medical record is in the files there on the counter,” Ed comments as he rises, unsteadily to his feet. “You’re welcome to review them in explicit detail and from there I will address any further questions you have, if I am able. I was under a medically induced coma for a large portion of my recovery so I think they may provide more insight than I in that regard.”

He goes to the counter and slides the information toward Oswald. “And the door lock?” Oswald questions as Ed goes to leave. 

“Testifying against you,” Ed sighs. “Indicated first hand knowledge and active participation in the events I reported. I was given the same sentence as you. The same length of time with two stipulations. First, I was imprisoned at the station and allowed access to their files so long as I remained ...obedient. Secondly, I was to never attempt to see, speak, or contact you in anyway, ever again. Or the investigation into your affairs would be reopened with the death penalty back on the table.”

He’s almost to the door of the room when Oswald says, just barely loud enough for Ed to hear, “YOU were my family, Ed. You make it sound like I never had anyone. But I thought I had you.”

Ed turns back to see Oswald staring out the window with tears in his eyes. “You still do,Oswald. You always did. I swear it.”

And then he can’t stand it anymore and Ed has to leave. He stumbles down the hallway back to his rooms. 

*****

Ed has lost his kidney. 

His left kidney, a portion of the right one is damaged as well, but functional with help. The lower part of his liver had to be removed, and the bottom tip of his left lung. He has nerve damage, hence the tremor in his hand. 

He very nearly died. 

It takes Oswald a very long time to process that thought. 

He weeps, and then flat out sits in his room and sobs when he read how in his sleep Ed would call out for him sounding terrified and weak. 

Edward Nygma will be disabled for the rest of his lifespan. Oswald reads and re-reads the doctors predictions related to how long that life span might be and how the significant damage inflicted on his body might impact his mobility, mortality, and virility. 

Apparently, three months in a medical coma does a lot to reduce your ability to perform sexually. At least that’s what the doctors thought. Oswald wonders if it might be stress related or perhaps depression. Ed has had a long history of struggling with his mental and emotional health. This level of injury and isolation can’t have been good for either. 

He remembers the flat and direct way Ed had announced he loved Oswald over coffee, as though he expected no reaction, hoped for no reconciliation, longed for nothing further than to be allowed to breathe the same air. 

Oswald sighs and buries his face in his hands. He’s frustrated, exhausted, and hurt. Old aches in his very soul that he has long soothed with rage and then indifference are now clamoring for his attention again. 

Ed loves him.

He ...loves Ed. So very much. 

They have a daughter together. 

A cookie cutter little family dropped into Oswald’s waiting lap and he has no idea what to do with it. He adores them both, but risking his heart again to a man that has broken him so many times is so much to consider. Ed has hurt him. He has done the same in return. Maybe this friendship, as uneasy as it is right now, is all they can truly have together. Maybe more than this is too much to ask of anyone. 

But the idea of being allowed to lean into Ed’s warm embrace and rest against his chest as they hold each other close is so tempting. Oswald has never been a sexual creature. He’s never understood the draw of baring yourself so intimately for another person. It’s always seemed terrifying and honestly a little bit disgusting. The whole exchange of bodily fluids. He’s never been attracted to anyone like that. 

He loves Ed, has since he was idiotic enough to believe that he could hold on to the happiness he had found with the other man as mayor. But even then, he’d never thought past the hope of the two of them just loving each other and continuing on as they were. Ed’s relationship with Izabella had unintentionally thrown that lack of normalcy on his part in his face. 

Oswald knows better now. He’s not broken or damaged. He’s just who he is and he wants what he wants. He had tortured himself for a very long time about what he might be willing to do to keep Ed’s attentions. But the reality is anything beyond cuddling, hand holding, and maybe kissing (he’s never had the chance to try it out, but there’s something about it that he thinks he might enjoy so long as there were clear boundaries,) is off the table for Oswald with any partner. Even Ed. 

Not that it matters. 

Oswald rolls his eyes at his own wishful thinking and heads back out into the estate to find Izzie and bask in the uncomplicated nature of their blooming bond. 

Which makes it particularly annoying when he finds Izzie sitting next to Ed on the couch in front of the fire in her pajamas. 

Ed is very quietly reading to her. It’s not a story Oswald recognizes, but his mother used to tell him tails from the old country, not the americanized versions this generation is used to reading. 

He wonders if some of those stories, whispered to him in his sick bed as a child might be responsible for his lean toward aggression in the face of difficulty. 

Ed stops abruptly when Oswald leans heavily against the doorway, the old frame creaking under his weight. “Do go on,” Oswald murmurs as he finishes crossing the floor to sit in the chair closer to the fire. Ed nods nervously, shoving up his glasses and wiping his hands on his pants before picking back up the discarded book and beginning again. 

Oswald watches Izzie’s face as the other man begins to read. She glances from one of them to the other repeatedly before tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping herself in it. She settles, closes her eyes with a tiny pleased smile crossing her face. 

He rests his head against the back of his wingback chair and soaks in the warmth of the fire, the security of his….family, and Ed beautiful voice as Oswald closes his eyes. 

_“Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'_

_'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit._

_'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'_

_'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'_

_'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”_

*****

Oswald always knew their peace couldn’t last. 

He had been through enough life changes where his happiness was ripped from him to be prepared for the eventual implosion of his tentative hopefulness. 

But frankly, he had assumed it would be something between him and Ed. Not an invasion from the outside. 

The assault started in the middle of the night. A deafening BOOM altering Oswald the first lines of their carefully planned defenses had been breached. He snarls his frustration as he hits the emergency override code to the door lock on his room and thanks Lucius for being willing to give him this one allowance of his imprisonment. 

He stumbles out into the hallway and runs toward Izzie’s room. She tumbles out into the hallway just as he gets there, her eyes wide and panicked before she seems him. They hold onto to one another as another blast rocks the house and Ed comes barrelling around the corner guns drawn and ready. “We have to get her out of here,” Ed yells over the noise. 

Oswald nods, turning toward the steps and dragging Izzie after him. His leg is screaming but he ignores it, nothing matters but her safety. He and Ed have discussed this. No matter the cost to both of them, Izzie must make it out. 

They make it as far as the back kitchen door with Ed leading the way before their escape plan disintegrates. A hail of gunfire peppers the side of the house before another blast from some kind of air cannon implodes the entirety of the wall with the windows in it. Oswald turns his back and dives for the corner of the room still holding onto his daughter. 

Once the dust is clear he locks eyes with Ed, both lower legs pinned under a large section of the outer wall of their home. “Take her,” Ed orders, lungs already struggling for breath as he tries to shift himself loose but fails. “Take her and run, Oswald.”

Oswald ignores the tears that well up in his eyes, they have a plan, he will follow it. He nods thinking this might really be the last time they are together but presses his lips together to keep from screaming as Ed mouths, “I love you,” at them both before swinging his attention back to covering them as they try to escape. 

He manages to drag a screaming Izzie as far as the opening to the backyard before she slams her hands into the broken wall and wails, “Momma, NO!”

“We have to go,” Oswald sobs as he tries to move her. “Please, I promised.”

“NO, Momma!” She snarls, eyes filled with rage, her face a mask of fury unlike any Oswald has ever seen. “Protect Poppa!” 

Before he can reply she swings out and shoves him so hard he slides across the floor into where Ed is trapped. She reaches over the debris covering the counter into the giant knife block and pulls out two of the knives that Olga has always kept sharpened. She looks over at them one more time before turning her back to them to face their intruders, “Protect Momma and Poppa,” She snarls and launches toward their incoming attackers with a scream like a banshee. 

It’s the most brutal thing Oswald has ever witnessed. She slashes her way through the intruders like butter. Ed and Oswald do what they can from where they’re pinned in. She’s like an avatar of death. There’s no hesitation, no forgiveness, she destroys them. 

Oswald weeps as he hears the incoming sirens from the GCPD as they get closer. It’s over by the time they arrive. A river of blood runs across their lawn, Oswald and Ed shielding their child from the horrified looks of the police as they come closer. Izzie still snarling, nearly out of control as they both plead with her to stand down and let the officers help. 

By the time it’s all said and done Oswald is just grateful they weren’t all shot on sight. 

In the end, Ed is transferred to the hospital under tight security for a compression fracture in his leg. Oswald is relieved to learn that unlike his, it will heal correctly. Izzie has a few cuts and bruises. Oswald himself a concussion and a sprained wrist. 

He refuses to leave Ed’s side. They all end up secured into one room together for the night with Jim and Harvey standing guard personally. Izzie curled up asleep in the small armchair, covered by three blankets. Ed confined to the bed, and Oswald trying to find his place. 

“Come to bed,” Ed asks or orders, Oswald isn’t entirely sure. “Oswald,” he repeats when the request doesn’t induce a response. “Come here.”

Oswald approaches the bedside trembling all over. “I would have left you,” he mutters as Ed shifts slowly toward one side to make room. 

“Then it would have been the first time in all of our time together that you ever did what I asked you to do,” Ed sighs. 

Oswald slides into the bed beside him with a hiss of discomfort before he settles back against the pillows. He presses the side of his face into Ed’s shoulder and whispers, “I love you too.”

Ed hums, tugs the sheet and blankets up over them both, laces their fingers together carefully and relaxes into their nest.

They’ll deal with the rest, come morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about it. 

Their confessions of mutual love, their romantic leanings toward each other. Their separate, quiet desperation for more than this limbo they’ve found themselves in. 

They’re both avoidant creatures. But more than that, it’s been terribly busy. 

The estate has been compromised, it’s no longer the safe haven they had counted on it to be. Back up plans had been made but not put into effect and Ed, Oswald, and Izzie find themselves crammed into one of Oswald old safehouses. It’s secure, but there’s only two bedrooms and most of Ed’s medical equipment fills up one. This has been leaving Izzie in the other room, Oswald and Ed bickering over the terribly uncomfortable couch in the living room which, they have both learned, is still more comfortable than sharing a bed with their daughter who sleeps like a starfish. 

An ever moving starfish who snores. 

Needless to say, tensions have been high, space is at a minimum, and they all, in varying different degrees, have been at each other's throats. 

“What is it going to take to get you to stop moving my things?” Ed bellows from the bathroom. “Damnit, Oswald. I can’t find anything in here with all of your hair products all over the place.”

“I told you to keep your belongings in the other room,” Oswald sighs. “You are the only person in the house that has a WHOLE ROOM set aside for them. Keep your things in there!”

“Because I WANT to be permanently attached to a dialysis machine,” Ed snaps as he yanks open the bathroom door and hurls a bottle of hair spray in Oswald’s general direction. 

It misses by a mile. They all know Ed wasn’t trying to hit him. 

“You could, I don’t know, DO something about that then,” Oswald snarls back. 

“OH yes,” Ed sarcastically comments as he comes out of the bathroom in his robe waving his toothbrush. “Older male, significant mental health issues, history of violent acts, normally associated with sociopaths, needs a kidney. I bet they would be lining up around the block to help me.” 

“I would,” Oswald mutters as he busies himself with arranging and rearranging the blankets on the pull out couch. 

Ed freezes midwave. “Oswald?” He questions, voice wavering with emotion. 

Oswald pointedly looks away from him with his good eye, focuses on the corner of the room. Belligerent, even in his show of support. “What?” He asks even though he KNOWS what Ed is approaching him about. 

“No,” Ed whispers as he reaches Oswald’s side and tugs the blanket out of his now shaking hands. “Even if it were possible, I couldn’t, I won’t allow you to do that.”

“You don’t ALLOW me to do anything,” Oswald huffs, trying to yank his hands away and failing. “And why not? I’ve researched it, they say you can live a perfectly normal life with just one.”

“You can,” Ed assures him. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Oswald erupts. 

Ed cups the blind side of Oswald’s face and strokes his thumb under the socket. Oswald knows, because he’s done it countless times, that if Ed presses hard enough he will be able to feel the crushed bits of bone that never really fit back together correctly. He tries hard not to flinch away from the tender caress. 

“Because of this,” Ed whispers as he crowds closer, all but pressing up against Oswald’s frame. “Because I cannot live with the idea of you giving up another part of yourself. I can’t be whole if it comes at the cost of you being in pieces, Oswald. You mean too much to me. I… I love you too much.”

Oswald knows he’s crying, the vision in his good eye blurry before he feels the hot track of his tears down his face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Oswald murmurs, “A wise man once told me that love was about sacrifice. Giving you a kidney, having you be healthy again, it would be the least I could do.”

Ed trembles against him before a broken sob tumbles out of his mouth and he leans forward, enveloping Oswald in his long arms before burying his face in Oswald’s neck and weeping into his shirt. 

They stay that way for a long time until they feel something pushing against their sides and turn to see their daughter determinedly wedging her way between them. 

“Me too,” Izzie says as they wrap her up in their arms while still holding each other. 

Ed leans into Oswald with a sigh of contentment. . 

Oswald decides to call Lucius in the morning. He’ll know how to get in contact with the absolute best surgeon. 

******

A month later, after moving into a larger house with surrounding grounds that have been heavily fortified, Oswald comes home nearly quivering with excitement. Lucius giving him a guarded look as he almost leaps from the car to head toward his home, his family. 

“He’s not going to like this,” Lucius shouts after him. 

Oswald doesn’t spare him a backward glance, waving the other man away as he opens the front door. He knows he’s in for an uphill battle, but it will be worth it when he wins. 

Ed will realize that sooner or later. 

“Where have you been for so long,” Ed teases as Oswald stumbles into the entryway, tripping over his own feet with a wince due to his hurry. 

“I had a medical appointment,” Oswald answers, deciding to go with honesty even though the urge to lie, and by doing so buy himself more time to be prepared, is strong. 

Ed’s on his feet immediately and headed toward him. “Is something wrong?”

Oswald blushes as Ed’s sharp gaze travels up and down his body, clearly assessing his well being. “No,” Oswald shakes his head. “But I have good news.”

Ed immediately looks wary, “Good news? What kind of good news.” His tone is suspicious. 

There’s a part of Oswald, a tiny part, quite irritated with Ed’s sudden concern. But he has to acknowledge that they have significant history around secrets, all of it ending badly. And Oswald has been hiding this research project from him. “I’m a match,” He answers, thinking that perhaps he’s ready for any kind of response Ed could give him. “A match for you. All we have to do is schedule surgery and I can give you a kidney. No more dialysis! The doctor I’ve procured is amazing, he says that the introduction of my kidney to your system could also have significant positive impact on several other system functions you’ve struggled with since the incident.” 

Oswald is ...unprepared for what happens next. He forgets sometimes that he and Ed are learning each other again after being apart for so very long. Oswald had been assuming the dual nature of Ed’s personality had somehow been melded into one while they were seperated and that is why Ed never mentioned his other half anymore. 

But then Oswald is snatched up and shoved into the nearest wall with Ed bearing down on him with all his weight. Pinned and snarling at the manhandling Oswald snaps, “Ed! Stop it!”

“Not Ed,” Riddler replies before leaning in and licking the side of Oswald’s straining neck. “Long time, Ozzie. I missed you.” 

Oswald leans away from the attention being paid to his neck by the taller man, putting his hands on the other’s chest and shoving his backward just far enough to feel like he has his feet stable on the ground. “Riddler,” he begins, only to be interrupted by a lascivious nip behind his ear and a wanton moan. “RIDDLER,” Oswald shouts, twisting in the grip of the other man. “Enough.”

But instead of backing away Riddler grabs his face and leans in to force a kiss onto Oswald’s lips. That’s enough, Oswald reaches out, and as loath as he is to do it, he presses in deeply to the wound Izzie left on Ed’s side. Riddler snarls in discomfort, taking a step away before going to dart back in. Oswald raises his arm to fend him off, maybe even punch him in the face, but he never gets the chance. 

What looks to be a half eaten bowl of oatmeal bashes Riddler in the head first. Both men turn and see Izzie in the doorway. Oswald’s pulse skyrockets, would Riddler hurt their daughter? Oswald’s not sure. He’s equally not certain about Izzie flat out killing Ed’s body because someone else is in the driver’s seat. 

“Let go of Momma,” Izzie orders, still gripping the spoon in her left hand. 

“Is that anyway to treat your father?” Riddler asks, but he’s already stepping away and putting his hands in the air. 

“Not poppa,” Izzie says with slow shake of her head. 

“Smart too,” Riddler murmurs. But then he smiles. “Good. I like what I see so far.” 

Izzie curls up her lip and snarls at him. 

“She’s not impressed,” Oswald snorts. “And I would prefer if you behave so we can talk this out without our daughter killing Ed’s body.”

“Not our daughter,” Riddler snaps. “That’s Ed’s girl. I’m…..more of a fun both irresponsible uncle type.” 

Oswald rolls his eyes. 

Izzie snorts, but she crosses her arms and cocks her head saying, “Mess is your fault, you clean it. Touch momma again and Poppa told me to do whatever it takes to stop you. I will. Don’t be stupid. Momma is MINE.”

There’s a pause in the room, the tension builds to something nearly unbearable, but then Riddler huffs, “Understood. I’ll clean, no touching.” 

Izzie nods, then leaves, muttering about adults and their stupidity. Oswald can’t help but smile at some of the more...colorful grammar choices and continuously improving vocabulary. .

Ridder looks at him petulantly. 

“What?” Oswald finally asks as he goes to sit on the couch. 

“You’ll give him a kidney when he doesn’t want it,” Riddler comments “But you won’t give me a kiss?” 

Oh...Oswald hadn’t considered this in his plans at all. “I fail to see the connection.”

“You don’t WANT me,” Riddler accuses. “I have done so much for you and for years you wouldn’t even say my name. Now you’ll give stupid Ed a kidney even though he doesn’t want you to do that but I’m still rejected. You just ...don't want me.” 

Oswald flushes bright red, he had thought there might be more time before he had to have this talk and frankly, he had been pretty sure he was going to have it with Ed not the clearly hurt man sitting in front of him now. “To be fair,” Oswald starts slowly. “I don’t WANT ...anyone.”

“What?” Is the only reply.

“I’m not ...attracted to...anyone sexually,” Oswald feels like he’s gotten caught stealing by his mother when he was a little kid. “I don’t know why. It’s just ...not me. I’ve never wanted to...be with anyone like that. I don’t want Ed that way. I don’t want you, you’re right about that, but you're wrong about the reason.”

“So,” Riddler is clearly processing, Oswald can almost see the man framing and reframing their interactions with this new data. There’s a long period of silence while Riddler thinks and Oswald waits before finally, “Ok.”

“That’s it?” Oswald asks, stunned.

“Yes,” Riddler nods. “I had been operating under an assumption that you have proven incorrect. I’m sorry for my behavior. Trust me that will not happen in the future should we continue to interact. I’m curious about your boundaries, but if you would prefer to discuss those later with Ed I totally understand. I think I accidentally stole a conversation that you should have been having with him to begin with.”

“I think I’m in shock,” Oswald mutters. 

“Me too!” Riddler snorts. “For the record, thank you for what you’ve done about our injuries. Ed will not admit it, but we had reached an accord before he was injured. Functioning as one unit. We were happy, though it had taken a lot of work. The stress of his injuries, the worry about being able to protect you and the mini-you there is tugging us apart again. You may not see much of me independently once you convince him to let you help him.”

“I can count on your support?” Oswald asks. 

“Of course,” Riddler nods affirmatively. “I hate that infernal machine. And...please don’t judge me too harshly for admitting this. The idea of having a part of you inside me for as long as I live is...attractive.”

Oswald blushes. 

“You’re beautiful,” Riddler comments before heading over to where Oswald is sitting and asking, “May I take your hand?”

Oswald holds it out, both of them pointedly ignoring the tremble in it. Riddler takes it slowly, turning it over and pressing his lips delicately to the back of it before sliding away. “Goodbye, Oswald. I’m going to leave the clean up to Ed if you don’t mind.”

And then he’s gone. Ed’s clearly back in the driver's seat. He steps quickly away from Oswald before commenting, “I need some time. Can we please table this discussion until after dinner?”

Oswald nods, rising to his feet to go check on their daughter who he just KNOWS is pressed against the kitchen door eavesdropping. Sure enough, when he shoves the door inward abruptly it hits something with a dull THUD and Izzie groans, “OWwwwwwwww.” 

Oswald chuckles, looks over his shoulder as he leaves the room to see Ed picking up the thrown bowl and turning it over in his hands as he thinks. 

Oswald decides to come back with a towel and help get up the oatmeal. 

*****

The debate with Ed lasts well into the early morning. By then both of them have terrible headaches, eyes red rimmed with all the tears they have shed. Izzie at one point waking up due to the yelling and coming down to break them both up to seperate corners until they can calm down. 

Ed is being obstinate. 

Oswald refuses to back down. 

Eventually, whether out of plain exhaustion or being too tired to continue to deny something Ed clearly needs, the taller man capitulates and their fighting moves forward into semantics and detailed planning. 

“What about our daughter?” Ed asks. “Who will take care of Izzie?”

“Bruce Wayne,” Oswald responds immediately, “Though frankly, we’ve both met Bruce, it will be Alfred that will do most of the caretaking.” 

“Why him?” Ed looks confused, curious.

“He’s Batman,” Oswald answers. 

When Ed chokes on his tea Oswald considers he should have broken the news more gently, but water under the bridge now.

“How do you know that?” Ed chokes out 

“I told him,” Izzie says from the doorway. She smiles at them both, still in her pajamas, as she heads toward the kitchen for her favorite breakfast, plain oatmeal and black coffee. Oswald has tried everything to get her to change that routine. Nothing has worked so far. He’s finally admitted defeat and turned her over to Ed to work on at least moving her from gas station sludge to some kind of refined gourmet blend. “It’s obvious, Poppa.”

Ed blinks at them both like he’s woken up in a room he doesn’t recognize. “You’re serious?”

“MHmmm!” Izzie nods with a grin that Oswald appreciates as one hundred percent Edward Nygma. He adores the little moments when he sees each of them reflected in her affect and mannerisms. Though he knows he is soon going to have to discuss with her the limp she has acquired by watching him walk. Ed’s useless in that regard, he thinks it’s cute. 

“And he agreed to this?” Ed questions as though he just can’t quite believe it. 

“Of course,” Oswald nods. “He likes kids. So does Alfred. And keeping her safe and off the radar has become a side project of his since the attack on the estate. Bruce seems to have taken that level of infiltration to our city personally. He’s determined to not allow it to happen again.”

Ed nods, but he knows OSwald well enough to add, “And?”

“He wants to pick my brain,” Izzie says as she comes back from the kitchen with her coffee. 

“What?!” Ed snarls.

“Poppa,” Izzie sighs with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “I know things. Lot of things.”

“But you dislike discussing them,” Ed counters. “I don’t ever want you to be put in a position where you have to do something you dislike for us.”

Izzie smiles into her coffee a sad, bitter little grin she is too young to have. “Strange can’t hurt me now. I don’t like having to...remember. But, Momma says this man helps. He...protects. I can help. I can tell what I know. I’m not scared of the bad men. But not strong. Can’t stop them. Momma says this man can. Or he will try. That is enough for me. I will be Strange’s last monster, Poppa. The bad men won’t make anymore.” 

“You’re not a monster, Izzie,” Ed whispers as he gathers her close and holds her. Oswald reaches out to wipe away her tears. 

“Not anymore,” Izzie whispers into Ed’s sweater. “I have Momma and Poppa now. Not alone.” 

******

It’s almost a year later when Ed hesitantly knocks on Oswald’s bedroom door. 

Surgery successful. Most of the medical equipment swapped out for things needed for both of their physical therapy. Once Izzie had finally been confronted about the limp she had simply smiled and announced she would stop limping when Oswald did. He and Ed have long since come to terms that their little angel is the one actually running the house and their lives. 

Oswald has become strangely comfortable with that. She makes better decisions than they have. 

“Ed?” Oswald questions as the other man comes toward his bed. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Ed answers with a nod. But then, “No.” and then finally, “Maybe?” 

Oswald swallows down a sense of panic. “Care to elaborate?”

“I think we need to talk about our relationship,” Ed answers as he stops at the edge of the bed. Oswald curls his feet up making room for Ed to sit. 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before answering, “I’m trying not to panic. What specifically, do we need to discuss?”

“I remember what you told Riddler,” Ed answers as he plucks at the worn edge of his pants. 

Oswald slides his eyes shut. He’s been dreading this for a long time. But it had to happen eventually. “And?”

“I’ve done some research,” Ed stops and sighs. “I think you would best identify as asexual.”

At Oswald’s raised eyebrow Ed rushes to explain, “It means…”

“I know what it means, Ed,” Oswald snaps. “I’m waiting for you to tell me where you’re going with all this.” 

“I’m ...not,” Ed answers. 

“Not what?” Oswald presses, losing his grip on his temper. 

“Asexual,” Ed snaps back. 

“NO SHIT, EDWARD!” Oswald shouts. “Do you think I’m an idiot?!”

“NO!” Ed barks before taking a breath and adding, “I’m sorry, Oswald. This is extremely uncomfortable for me. I can only imagine it is for you as well. I’m handling this poorly.”

“It’s alright,” Oswald calms, settles against the pillows propped up against the headboard. “I’m just feeling very awkward.”

“I want to talk to you about ...intimacy,” Ed swallows. 

Oswald does too. “What do you mean by intimacy?”

“Not sex,” Ed rushes to get out before flushing pink and pressing his hand to his forehead. “I wanted to know two things. One, I wanted to know what your boundaries are related to physical contact? Hugging, I know is acceptable. But would you be open to holding hands, or cuddling. Would kissing ever be appropriate and, if so, under what terms? Are there parts of your body you don’t want me to touch?”

“Oh,” Oswald flushes, “I thought you were going to tell me you loved me but you had needs and would have to go elsewhere.”

“What?” Ed questions with a disgruntled turn of his lip. “No! That’s not the case at all. I love you, Oswald. I have no interest in anyone or anything else. This actually leads me to the more uncomfortable part of this conversation for me. The second request I have is if you would mind me borrowing a shirt of yours, preferably one you have worn but not yet washed?”

“This conversation has gotten more and more odd,” Oswald comments. “Why do you want my clothing?”

“Since the surgery,” Ed huffs, fingers trembling. “My ...libido is ...waking up. I’m having urges, urges centered around ...you, Oswald. I understand you don’t reciprocate those feelings. That is not a problem for me at all. Please don’t think that. But, self pleasure has always been ...difficult for me. My brain never turns off and I get distracted easily, off topic, and then frustrated. More often than not I’m unable to reach completion. I was hoping if you gave me something that I associated with you, that smelled like you, it might help me turn off my brain for a bit. And then, afterward, I was hoping you might be willing to consider allowing me to come to you and that you might ...hold me. While masturbation is a stress reliever, it also leaves me feeling vulnerable and lonely. Those feelings often trigger my depression and even though I’ve never tried it, having you to come to may help, and I wanted to see how you felt about that possibility.”

Oswald’s eyes well with tears, “You’re certain me being this way, it isn’t a problem for you? Too much to deal with?”

Ed’s smile is as tender as the hand that cups his face, “Oswald, you’re the love of my life. The only one my heart beats for. Those nine years we spent apart when I thought I would never be able to speak to you again, I never thought about Kristen, Isabella, or Lee. I thought of you. You’re smile, your laugh, the little hops you start doing when you’re getting upset. I thought about how good it was to have you to turn to whenever I needed. I thought about how much I secretly enjoyed us trying to kill each other. I missed the rage in your voice. I missed your tears. I want YOU in every way I can have you forever. That’s all, you’re all I need.”

Oswald lowers his head, pulling off his sleep shirt and handing it to Ed with a flush covering most of his chest. “I’ve never tried kissing. I’m open to exploration related to the topic. I will always hold you. You only have to ask.” 

“Thank you,” Ed whispers. “Would you be opposed to beginning that exploration now?”

Oswald doesn’t think his cheeks can get any pinker. They feel so hot he experiences a fleeting thought of heat stroke before brushing it off and nodding his consent. “Slow?” He requests. 

Ed nods, leaning in and making a point to hold his arm out of the way to allow Oswald to feel like he has an escape path should he need it. Their noses bump. Oswald huffs and Ed chuckles before dipping his head slightly and almost delicately touching his lips to Oswalds. The caress is brief, barely there, almost no pressure. Ed leans away, nuzzling Oswald’s nose with his own for just the barest moment. 

Then he waits. 

Oswald’s eyes pop open, blinking rapidly. One of his hands reaches up to brush his fingertips over his own bottom lip before he looks at Ed and says breathlessly, “That’s it?”

Ed laughs. “Well, they say you should always leave them wanting more.”

Oswald glares at him, but it’s mostly just show. “I love you, Ed.” He whispers .

“I love you,” Ed replies with a quick press of his lips to Oswald’s temple as he rises to his feet and heads toward the door. “Would it be alright, if I ...come back later?”

“Of course,” Oswald nods, a thrill running up his spine at just the idea of it. “If I’m asleep just get in bed.”

Ed flushes a bit, pushes up his glasses, but he nods and the door shuts behind his retreating back. 

Oswald turns of the bedside lamp and burrows under his covers, mind racing with what they talked about, how his lips can possibly still be tingling, and trying not to consider what Ed might be doing right now. It’s not that he has a sexual interest in the process, but the idea of Ed wanting something from him to cling to during it sets off all of Oswald’s romantic bells and whistles. 

Later, Oswald isn’t sure how much time passes, the door to his room creaks open and he hears the pattern of Ed’s walk crossing the carpet toward the bed. When the taller man hesitates, perhaps uncertain, even now, of his welcome, Oswald throws back the covers. Ed sighs like a man relieving years worth of tension. He slips beneath the covers and curls close to Oswald’s side. Oswald gathers him up, running his hand up and down Ed’s trembling back, still damp with sweat from his exertion. Pressing kisses to the top of Ed’s head as they settle. 

Ed hums the most contented noise Oswald believes he has ever heard, long arms wrapping protectively around his softer frame. They drift into sleep clinging to each other. 

They never sleep apart again. 

*****

Ed kisses him. 

All the time. 

It’s somewhat embarrassing. Totally distracting. Often clumsy and weird. 

And wonderful, let’s not forget wonderful. 

“Oh my GOD!” Izzie shouts as she rounds the corner into the kitchen to get a snack after her lessons and finds Ed crowding Oswald against the kitchen cabinets. “Can you PLEASE stop making out for one whole minute? What is wrong with you two. I’m the teenager here!”

“We are NOT making out,” Oswald yelps as he pushes Ed away and wipes at his mouth for no other reason than his brain is rattled and he can’t focus. “We don’t do that.”

It’s true. They don’t. 

They’ve barely even gotten around to discussing the idea of open mouthed kissing. Oswald’s a little put off by the whole concept of Ed’s tongue in his mouth. So they aren’t making out. Not in the sense that their daughter means it. 

But ...what they are doing is sweet and tender and so so good. 

Izzie is still glaring at them both and Gotham bless Ed because Oswald has nothing in mind to say. “You mean like the making out you were doing with that Dick Grayson kid from Bruce’s house?”

Izzie actually turns pale, her mouth hanging open, chips in her hand falling to the floor. “How do you know about that?”

“I know everything,” Ed replies. 

Oswald just stands there and gapes at both of them on horror. 

“You WHAT?!” He finally bellows at near the top of his lungs. 

Ed laughs. 

Oswald turns on him too, “You KNEW, and you didn’t tell me?!” 

The laughter stops. Izzie turns a panicked gaze to Ed before turning back to Oswald and saying, “Mom, listen.”

“No!” Oswald snaps. “You are barely 14! You don’t make out with weird little teenage boys that run around in leotards!” 

“It’s his circus uniform, Mom,” Izzie snaps. “And like you give shit about men wearing leotards.”

“He is NOT a man,” Oswald snarls. “He is a little boy with a troubled past and bad attitude putting his hands on my CHILD!”

“MOM!” Izzie yells, slamming her hands into the countertop so hard the force cracks the granite. 

Everyone just stops and looks at each other. She turns, sobbing, and runs out of the room. 

Oswald stares at the crack in their countertop like his soul is pouring into it. 

“Ozzie,” Ed starts before gathering Oswald up in his arms. “Go after her. I’ll deal with this.”

“She won’t want to talk to me,” Oswald sniffs, wiping at his tears. “You’ll be better at this one.”

“No,” Ed laughs as he squeezes Oswald just a bit tighter. “She needs her mom. Go talk it out.”

Oswald stalls outside the door to their daughter’s room for a full ten minutes before working up the nerve to go inside. “Hey Lizard,” he starts, hoping the nickname she hates will spark a fire in her. The yelling he can handle, the tears, so many tears, he feels totally out of his depth. 

“Mom!” Izzie sits up on her bed and wipes at her face. “You don’t understand.”

Oswald sits beside her, gathering his thoughts. “Did I ever tell you your grandmother used to accuse me of running off with a painted lady all the time?”

At the shake of her head he continues, “It used to drive me crazy. Like I have ever been interested in any kind of ladies...but more than that I think I used to worry that your grandmother thought there was something wrong with me. As if the fact that there were no ladies upset her. I think maybe, looking back on it now, she was afraid I would end up...alone. I think she would be very happy with how this part of my life turned out. I have you to thank for that.”

Izzie curls into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re growing up too fast,” Oswald comments. “In my head, you’re still a little girl. But I know you aren’t. I also know your friendship circle is very small. I want you to remember that too. Dick Grayson isn’t a bad kid, but he is the only kid to show an interest in you, but only because he’s the only boy you know. I want you to get out of Gotham, Lizard. I want you to grow up, see the world, see the whole universe if you want, the multiverse even. I don’t want you to settle for a Wayne just because they’re here.”

They sit in silence until her hiccupping breaths calm into something more peaceful. “”You’re a Cobblepot, Izzie. We only love once and we do it with everything we have. Please, love carefully.”

“Like you and Dad?” Izzie asks. 

Oswald winces. “I think it’s time to tell you the story of how your father and I met and what happened when I fell in love.”

And so he does. Edward at some point coming in to join them. 

******

Oswald wakes in that time where it’s not quite morning, but no longer completely night either. 

He’s groggy, body frozen for a moment as he tries to ascertain what it was that disrupted his sleep. Fears of another attack on their daughter have never fully left him. 

But no, the disruption isn’t from an outside source, it’s from far closer, his bedmate. Ed is still asleep, curled around Oswald like the octopus he is in their bed. Oswald smiles at the tender rumblings of Ed muttering in his sleep. A common occurrence for Ed. Sometimes he holds full on conversation with Oswald without remembering. Perhaps even more entertaining is when he talks to Riddler in this sleep and Riddler answers. Neither of them appearing to be aware of Oswald’s presence snuggled up beside them. Oswald has learned to ignore the more ....snarky of their discussions. 

But tonight ...tonight is something different. Ed’s breathing is off, hitched, sometimes gasping. His hands are still, but his hips are moving against the curve of Oswald’s behind in a slightly disrupted rhythm. Oswald ponders that this must be why it took him so long to figure out what was going on. Oswald’s eyes widen when he feels Ed’s erection, separated by the thin material of their sleep pants, pressing against him. 

He’s honestly not sure what to do. What is the etiquette when your bedmate tries to orgasm with you while they’re asleep?

He’s glad Ed is sleeping, it gives him time to think. 

Oswald ponders his options. He could do nothing, Ed isn’t accosting him in anyway. His hands and arms never move. The man is asleep so there is clearly not an expectation of Oswald’s participation in the act. He has to evaluate his feelings related to that thought. He could do nothing and get to experience being with a partner in the throws of passion with no pressure involved on him. Would he be alright with that experience? Oswald comes to the decision that, yes, he would. But only with Ed. Dear, wonderful Ed who has never asked for more than Oswald was willing to give. Ed, who has sat through what may have seemed like endless discussions related to boundaries that Oswald initially thought he needed but then found out weren’t necessary. Ed, who has always been flexible, backing off when needed, coming closer when wanted. Ed, who waited almost a whole year to get to kiss Oswald with abandon and his tongue. Ed, who still respects his boundaries about physical intimacy to the point where he keeps his own room though he no longer resides in it just so he has a place to see to his physical needs without disrupting Oswald’s space. 

Ed...who by the feel of things against him is reaching the point where Oswald needs to make a decision. 

It would be so easy for Oswald to just do nothing and let the responsibility for this rest solely on Ed’s head when he wakes. But that would be wholly selfish and unfair and those are two things Oswald has been working very hard to no longer be. 

So he wakes Ed up. It’s the right thing to do. Oswald is learning, being a parent and a ...husband. (Not officially, not yet, but it’s how he thinks of their relationship.) 

Oswald’s touch is tender, but firm, as he grips the arm Ed has him anchored with and gives it a shake. “Ed, wake up, please.”

The movement stops. Oswald waits. It only takes a moment for Ed to breathe out against his neck, “Oh dear. I am so so sorry, Oswald. I was dreaming, please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Oswald rushes to reassure him as he rolls over onto his back so he can meet the other man’s eyes in the dim light. “It’s fine.” 

Ed nods, still looking uncertain. “I’ll ...go ...deal with this. Then if you’ll allow me to return, we can discuss any concerns you have?”

“No!” Oswald blurts as Ed starts to draw away from him. At the look of abject rejection on his face Oswald rushes to add, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh,” Ed nods, still looking uncomfortable and confused. “Alright.”

But then he just stays perfectly still next to Oswald in the bed, like they are strangers trying to share a small space. “Oswald,” Ed murmurs. “What’s going on?”

“You were…” Oswald makes a vague hand motion that he suspects looks ridiculous at Ed’s small smile in return. “And I ...I’ve wondered, about you, when you’re …..you know.”

At that, Ed actually snorts in laughter and Oswald elbows him in the ribs. “Stop it!” Oswald orders. “I’m TRYING here. This is awkward.”

“For both of us, I assure you,” Ed settles against him more comfortably and Oswald relaxes. 

“I wonder, what you look like, if you say anything, what your breathing sounds like,” Oswald whispers. “Tonight, I woke up and ...I almost let you finish without waking you, but then I thought it would be cruel. I don’t want you to leave, but I do want your consent. If you wanted, we could try it like that?”

“Together?” Ed questions. 

“It doesn’t, I’m not ...aroused.” Oswald swallows. “But, the intimacy of being near you, holding and being held by you, I like that tonight. I want to see it through with you.”

Ed nods, “I can rock against you until I climax. I can hold you while I do it. Will you hold me, please?” 

Oswald nods, rushing almost to put his arms around Ed and pull him closer. They settle with Oswald on his back and Ed resting up against his side. Ed’s flushed face buried in Oswald’s neck and the taller man clings to Oswald’s night shirt. The first stuttering press of his hardness against Oswald’s hip makes them both gasp. Ed’s leg restless until he slots it between Oswald’s. But then, things seem to fit. 

Oswald closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of Ed’s shampoo, his sweat. He drinks in Ed’s whimpers and gasps, the repeated litany of Ed repeating his name and how much he loves Oswald into the length of Oswald’s neck. The speed picks up, Ed’s whimpers turning into choked off moans. Oswald can tell when he comes, wet heat spreading against his hip as Ed starts to quiver all over and make these beautiful mewls into his damp skin. They stay still, pressed together for quite some time until Ed’s breath returns to normal. 

Oswald is more than pleased to share a tender, sweet kiss with the man he loves. But “Edward,” Oswald comments as they move apart. “This part is gross.” 

Ed laughs loudly, almost maniacally as he offers Oswald a hand up out of the bed. “Yes,” Ed agrees. “It can be disgusting.” 

They agree on a bath. If Ed takes extra attentive care of him that morning, Oswald is definitely not going to complain. Holding Ed while he’s peaceful and needy for affection, stripped bare of his many worries and defenses is one of Oswald’s favorite things in the world. 

While not something he wants every day, it turns out to be a wonderful way to wake up. 

*****

“We found them,” Ed comments over dinner when Izzie is 17. Her eyes snap to his over the length of the table. 

“When do we strike?” She questions quietly. 

This has been an ongoing and horrible debate for years amongst the three of them. Something never really settled. Neither of her parents have ever wanted her to participate in the assault on those who destroyed their home so many years ago. 

Oswald drops his fork onto his plate and presses both his palms to his face as if to prepare himself for the assault he knows must be coming. Ed sighs and shakes his head.

Izzie slams down her cup, inhaling deeply, just like Oswald, before what promises to be a tirade. But as Oswald looks to Ed for support he sees the shift from Ed to Riddler occur. It’s enough to give him and Izzie pause. Riddler has been dormant within Edward off and on for years. His interest in Izzie has never appeared to be particularly strong. 

But it turns out that appearances can be deceiving. 

“Madam,” Riddler intones, “perhaps this discussion would be better served with your ever improving debate skills rather than a full on attack on the fabric of our family?”

Oswald turns wide eyes to Izzie as she nods, slowly, exhales, places her hands flat on the table and seems to search within herself for strength. 

“I’d like to make my case,” She announces bare moments later. Oswald nods, this is new, he wants to see where it goes. An education for both of them it seems. “I’ve prepared an argument for my participation in the assault against those who have harmed us. I would appreciate being allowed to finish my points before you respond.”

Oswald opens his mouth before he’s really thought out what he plans to say in response to her request. Riddler has no such hesitation and quickly comments, “We agree to your terms.” 

Izzie nods. “I am a valuable asset to any assault team. I’m stronger than anyone in Gotham. I’m combat trained both as a small child and over the past four years we have been working with Bruce. My response times are faster than everyone but Bruce himself. I’m a solid tactician thanks to both of your efforts to train me. On paper, I’m a logical choice for inclusion. But I understand that’s not the only thing to factor into these decisions. You have said multiple times that I am too personally invested to be trusted. I understand your concerns, however, my counterpoint to this is that so are both of you. Your love and worry for me clouds your judgement just as much as my love for you and my want to end this forever. Otherwise, why would two men, pushing fifty, want to go into a full on frontal military assault? That has never been your style and the last time you did something like this Mom lost an eye. Which brings me to my next point. What if something happens to you?”

She lets the question hang between them for a moment before continuing, “What would I do? I know Dad won’t leave your side, Mom. He’ll be your right eye for you and you’ll be his left. Whatever might happen to you will happen to both of you and then what happens to me? I’m supposed to wait at home for Uncle Alfred to come and tell me you’re gone? If that happens...I will kill EVERYONE that ever touched ANYTHING that had to do with Strange. I don’t want that. You’ve never wanted that for me. You want me to be safe and to have a life I can be proud of. I need you to be safe to do that.”

Oswald nods shakily, but he remains silent as requested. 

“Finally,” Izzie takes a deep breath. “Barbara GORDON gets to prance around Gotham in a purple suit and say she is BATGIRL! I’m better than her! I’m stronger, better trained, smarter, and damn sure more capable. I want a chance to show EVERYONE that.”

“She’s your sister,” Riddler comments. 

Izzie snaps her eyes to his with an almost evil glare. “Half-sister by blood only. This is my family. You are my parents. I was raised by the best to be the best and I’m ready to claim what’s mine. I’m a daughter of Gotham. I have just as much right to defend her and rule her as anyone else. I just want….” her voice shakes, a tear rolls down the side of her face. “I want the Gordon’s to know they never beat you. They aren’t the GOOD ones. I’m proud of you and who I am because of you. I want everyone to KNOW that.”

“Are you done?” Oswald gasps out. “I’m dying to talk.”

They share a laugh. Izzie nods. 

“Good,” Oswald smiles. “Wipe your tears, be ready by morning. We leave at dawn.”

“Are you serious?” She screeches. 

“You had me way early on,” Oswald admits. But then he turns to Riddler and comments, “But the fuck the Gordons part was delightful. I blame you for that.”

Riddler smiles before sliding away as Ed appears. 

“How much trouble am I in?” Ed asks. “I’d like to point out that technically I didn’t do ANYTHING.”

Oswald rolls his eyes. 

“There’s cheesecake for dessert,” Ed offers as way of an apology. “I made your favorite.”

“Forgiven!” Oswald slaps his hands on the table and smiles. 

“DAD!” Izzie snaps. “Mom’s not supposed to have sweets! What about his blood sugar?”

Ed digs back into his asparagus and pretends not to hear her complaints or Oswald’s laugh. 

*****

Oswald waits for his family in the entryway of their home. Nervous, vacillating to panic stricken and back what feels like every minute. 

“I’m ready,” Izzie announces as she comes into the room and opens her arms for Oswald to gather her up and hold her as if she’s still a little girl. She’s always going to be his little girl ...even if she is taller than him now. Damn Ed’s genetics. “Mom,” Izzie chuckles as he tries to squeeze her harder, “I’m going to be okay.” 

“I know that,” Oswald blusters. “I’m just scared.”

“As am I,” Ed comments as he gathers up both of them in his extra long arms. “But we do this together.”

There’s several beats of silence as they hold onto each other. Soaking in the comfort and strength of their family. As they slip away from each other Ed says, “Izzie, please check that I’ve packed everything. I’ve been over it twice but I would love a different set of eyes and you know your mother only has one.” 

Izzie rolls her eyes, so very much like Oswald as she heads out the door and toward their car. 

“Ozzie,” Ed says as he tugs Oswald close to him again. “I should sit this one out.”

Oswald’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen. “What?”

“I don’t mean stay behind,” Ed shakes his head. “I mean, that my suggestion is to allow Riddler to go in my place. He’s a far better fighter and nearly as good as I am as a tactician. He’s also better under pressure and I can barely breathe right now I’m so terrified of something happen to one of you. My emotional capacity is NOT a benefit here. He’ll never leave your right side, I’ve made sure of it. I just ...I want one more kiss with you before he takes over.” 

“I understand,” Oswald nods. “I’ll protect you both and Izzie.”

“I know,” Ed nods, pressing in close and dipping his head to kiss Oswald as tenderly as he has ever done before. Oswald’s eyes slide shut as they linger, pressed together, nothing thinking of the future, loving and secure. 

Oswald’s eyes slide open as Ed leans away, he watches Ed slide into Riddler, who immediately blushes and tries to step away. Oswald clings to him, reaching up to tug his head down and press and equally tender kiss to Riddler’s lips. The taller man making a noise that sounds shocked and needy. “I love you both,” Oswald whispers to him as he presses a final kiss to their cheek. “Make sure Ed knows that.”

“He never doubts it,” Riddler murmurs. “You are loved by us as well.”

Oswald nods. “You understand our agreement?”

“Izzie survives. No matter the sacrifice,” Riddler assures him. 

“Good,” Oswald agrees. “Then let’s get this over with.”

They walk to the car shoulder to shoulder ready to face whatever is coming together. 

******

The battle feels endless. There are so many. Izzie has lost count of the number she has cut down in this endless sea of people. 

They’re making progress, closing in on their goal, but the place reeks of death. 

If it weren’t for the cover fire provided by her mother and father she would have been overwhelmed a long time ago. As it is, the group of them are handling far further numbers than they had estimated. Bruce giving order to press in and regroup outside the lab as the battle finally thins. 

They find him inside. His lab coat pristine looking just as he looked when Izzie ripped his head off when she was ten years old. 

Strange. 

Nightwing forcibly holds her back as she lunges at him. It takes both him and Bruce to keep her from repeating history. She doesn’t want to hear his monologue. Doesn’t want to face him and the reality that this may never be over for her. That he was making his sick army of children again. 

She snarls at him, “This is OVER!” 

He smiles, “Not yet.”

Then, quick as lightning, he pulls a weapon from behind his back and fires it. Not at her, not at Bruce, but off to the side. 

She turns her head, screaming as she realizes the blast was meant for her parents, Ed’s chest pouring blood as he slides to the ground, her mother ….

“Izzie,” Bruce screams at her over the noise of what turns out to be a group of weaponized monstrosities entering the room in defense of Strange. “We’ve got them, take care of your family.”

She nods, but once she reaches them she realizes the task assigned to her by Bruce isn’t possible. 

Both of her parents are bleeding out. “Daddy,” She sobs as he shoves her away and toward Oswald. 

“Take care of your mother,” Ed orders. “Your MOTHER!” He snaps as she hesitates. 

Oswald is bleeding horribly from his neck. “The blast went through me and hit him,” Ed explains as he gasps for breath.

“Daddy,” Izzie sobs as she presses down on her mother’s throat as hard as she can to try and stop the bleeding. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ed assures her as he watches. “Good girl. It’s okay. You’re doing the right thing, Lizard. Save your mother. It’s what I want you to do…..”

His voice trails off, Oswald is barely breathing, “Help,” She whispers, “HELP!” She screams. “STOP THIS!” 

Everything stops moving.

The debris in the air freezes where it is. The blood stops seeping from between her fingers, The noise of the battle ceases and when she turns to look no one is moving, Bruce clearly being on his way back toward her, but now frozen midstep. 

“Hello,” Says a british man in a trench coat. 

“Who the fuck are you,” Izzie snarls, “And what the fuck did you do?”  
“My name is Rip Hunter,” the man comments. “I work for the Time Bureau, and I did not do this. You did.”

“Me?” Izzie looks around. “How?”

“You stopped time,” Rip comments as he edges closer to her. “It’s one of the many gifts you have. I take it this is the first time you’ve used this one.”

It’s not a question. Izzie glares at him. “I’m not stupid. You know this is the first time, or I bet you wouldn’t be here. Don’t ever underestimate me.”

He smiles, nods. “Perhaps we should take this back to my ship. We need to have a discussion. But to be upfront, I’m unable to leave you here, now that you’ve done this. I’ve been sent to collect you.”

“Collect me for what?” Izzie snaps. “Observation? Experimentation? I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“No,” he assures her. “For training. The Time Bureau is going to need your help.”

“Can you help my family?” Izzie asks. “They’re dying. I can’t let that happen, they’re all I have.”

“I’m not supposed to,” Rip admits. “But will it get you on the ship? I’ve read your files, I don’t want to fight you.”

“Fix them and I’ll go anywhere,” she agrees. 

It’s hours later, Gideon healing her parents wounds, when she and Rip return to the scene she has frozen in time. “I don’t know how to make time start again,” she admits as she looks around. “We can’t leave them like this.”

“I have that part handled,” Rip admits. “But perhaps you’d like to wrap up some old business first?”

She follows his eyes to Strange. “You’re going to let me kill him?”

“You’ve already killed him once,” he shrugs. “He’s an aberration. Not supposed to be here. After we’re done here, I’ll help you find out why and make sure it never happens again.”

She nods. He goes back to the ship. She joins him a few minutes later with sad eyes and a determined nod before going back to sit and wait for her parents to awaken. 

She knows, even though he doesn’t tell her, that she’ll never be able to go home again. It doesn’t matter, everything she needs to make her home is here and blessedly still breathing. 

"Gideon?" She questions. "Are they alright?"

"They will make a full recovery."

******

Time doesn’t stop for anyone. 

She sits on the bench and watches the tiny dark haired boy across from her in the park. 

He’s pale, freckled, dark hair and light eyes. He doesn’t quite fit in. 

She grinds her teeth as the other children bully him. Watching as he finally loses his temper and starts a full fledged brawl leaving him with a bloody nose and the other boys being drug off by their parents. He slumps down on the bench across from her with a groan. 

It only takes a moment for him to realize she’s watching him. When their eyes meet he snarls at her. 

She snarls back. 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

She does the same. 

He cocks his head to the side and glares at her. 

She follows along. 

They’ve played this game before, many years ago. OR rather, many years from now, depending on who you are. 

He finally smiles at her ridiculousness. 

She returns his grin and pats the bench next to her. Pleased when he comes over and sits an arms length away, taking in her outfit. 

She probably looks very out of place in her emerald suit, monocle, and a top hat. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“I’m the Queen of Gotham,” She answers as she brushes her purple hair over her shoulder. 

“I didn’t know Gotham had a queen,” he comments. 

“It’s a somewhat well kept secret,” she answers, leaning in to add. “If everyone knew then everyone would want to be the king or queen.”

He laughs. “That’s not how it works, royalty is about blood, you either have it or you don’t.”

“Sometimes,” She agrees. “Those kids don’t seem to like you very much.”

“No one does,” he shrugs. “They think I dress weird and they make fun of my mother’s accent. I hate them.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies. “Don’t listen to them. They’re wrong about you.”

“Easy for you to say,” he huffs. “I bet everyone is scared to talk to you that way. You’re the Queen.”

“One day,” She leans in to whisper. “Maybe you’ll be King and then everyone will respect you, too.” 

“I told you,” he laughs. “That is NOT how it works. Either you have a lot or you have nothing. Either you are royal or you aren’t.”

“I told you that isn’t always true,” She chuckles. “I knew a man once, he was raised very poor with just his mother for support. No one believed in him and he had nothing. But he never gave up and he never listened to anyone who told him he was wrong. And one day, he became King of Gotham.”

“Really?” He asks, when she nods he asks, “Did he rule wisely? My mother says rulers should be wise.”

“No,” She grins before reaching out and pressing her hand to his tiny chest. “He ruled with his heart, and he had a mighty heart. Even though it hurt a lot sometimes, his heart always got him where he needed to be.”

He nods, looking down at his chest. 

In the distance a woman with a heavy accent calls, “OSWALD! Time to go!”

“That’s my mother,” Oswald comments. “I have to leave now.”

“Goodbye, Oswald,” she takes off her hat and places it on his head. “A gift from the Queen to a King in the making. Never be afraid to stand out. Take care.”

He hugs her impulsively. She squeezes him back with all the love in her heart. 

She watches him run toward her grandmother with a trembling smile. 

“Ready to go, Boss,” Mick says as he approaches. 

“Yes,” She nods, brushing off her suit as she stands. “Let’s go back home. We have a mission waiting. Thank you, Mick. Thank you for taking me here.”

“Any time, Boss,” Mick nods as he offers his arm while they walk. “I go back and visit people sometimes too.”

She takes his offered arm with a grin, “Big softy.”

He grunts and ignores her as they turn toward the ship she’s called home for the past fifteen years.

"How long do you think before my Mom figures it out?" She asks. 

"He knows," Mick shrugs. "Told me to make sure you weren't late."

**Author's Note:**

> I was lucky enough to get the wonderfully supportive Esperata as the person to create for. I hope you like this. I appearently decided somewhere along the way to write you a whole big bang for Christmas. I got so deep into it I suddenly realized that I have kids, and Christmas to get ready for, and that you might not even like this story. So I found a good stopping point and waded back into my real life. There is whole second half of this story rattling around in my head full of recovery and hope and snuggles. If you're interested, I'd love to finish it. Thank you, Esperata for all your support, Merry Christmas.
> 
> * Quote included in the story from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams


End file.
